Recently, I was researching quotes from some of my favorite novels, for no other reason than to post them on my personal Facebook page. I was looking for some inspiring words, the kind that resonated with me, the kind that I could share with others.
May days are a wonder in the garden. It seems that each day there is something else budding, blooming, or fading away.
A few posts ago, I featured the gradual blooming of the first peony.
There are days when I no longer feel like a gardener. There are days when I feel more like a fashion photographer, coordinating colors, waiting for the perfect light, and soothing the tender egos. As I take out the camera, they’re on — strutting and seductive as they all aim to get the cover of Vogue or Elle or Better Homes and Gardens.
“Yes. That’s the shot.”
I always thought I knew my garden, knew all of its ins and outs. I have learned otherwise since starting this blog. Now, I find myself looking at the garden more deeply, always thinking of the next post. In fact, post obsession occupies most of my daily thoughts since I promised myself that I would post twice a week. Could I possibly write that much, especially at this time of year when so much of the garden is leaving or already gone?
That was the thought I had the other day when I pulled into the driveway, the posting question planted firmly in the forefront of my brain. It had been a rainy, gray day — and as I sat in my car, I looked about and I was stunned. My garden had been transformed into a shimmering display of rubies and amber, garnet and topaz. The next day, the sun came out, and when I looked about again, I discovered that my rainy day vision had not been a dream.